Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site



I was prompted for a contest on another site to write as if it was my journal. Here is what I think about daily; for I do not keep physical journals.My characters are my journal,and they manifest my heart, my weakness...my past...and then some.


Submitted:Oct 27, 2012    Reads: 8    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


I don't want to fail. No one does, but I get this odd feeling that no one is as serious about it as I am. Do you know what its like living day in day out doing the same thing, seeing the same people...making the same mistakes? It is torture to be stuck in deja vu. I fear that I will never be known. I don't want the spot light, glamour and fame;just to be known. I do not want to blend in with the scenery and be seen nevermore. If I do, for what reason was I given this passion? To want and to never know what to have feels like? To wish and hope, but never be granted? Surely there is a reason for all of this...surely. I can not crash and burn or fade away. Tis not in my blood to fall victim to such tragedy. If it was, I will rip the vein from my flesh and see to it that that virus knows the pulse of my heart nevermore. I wake sometimes in the middle of the night- not with that feeling of resurfacing from sleep, not even disoriented- but I wake sudden, and there it is floating above me in the darkness...darker than the darkness itself. Its there telling me that time is running out, that my space and my destiny could and will be fulfilled by another if I do not awake from this useless slumber and create the world that is in labor. I must give birth to them before time comes and overlooks them...and never will they know existence. It will not let me sleep... It will not let me rest... It calls to me... And I must answer... So with this hunger, this passion, this calling... I will write. I will create this universe of people who have been conceived in my mind. Whom has grown slowly but surely within me. Now, I will give birth to them with these hands..these fingers and they will live on upon milk white, stiff sheets of paper...and in your hearts. And through each tale...you will know, you will understand, and you will see who London truly is. Through each tale, each conflict, each character, you will see her, learn a part of her that was kept hidden from the light. Understand that it takes much to write it, to reveal to you my soul...please... I can not fail... I wont... -London




0

| Email this story Email this Miscellaneous | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.